


Field of Expertise

by acornandroid



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Newt Scamander, Blushes a lot, Bottom Newt, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Fluff, I guess this is porn with some plot?, M/M, Percival Graves is alive and I'll fight you on it, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Smut, beast chasing, but its mostly feelings, chapter 2 has the sex just an fyi this was getting too long, nundu, the plot is in chapter one, the plot is there if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid
Summary: Newt Scamander has met with Percival Graves on a few different occasions. However, there is now a Nundu loose in lower Manhattan that Newt is inclined on rescuing, the only problem is supervision. Thankfully, Percival is always there to supervise.





	Field of Expertise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back in Gramander hell  
> Follow my Twitter @acornandroid so we can yell about it

            In the field of expertise that Newton Artemis Fido Scamander possessed, the situation at hand could currently be read as being seated across from a dangerous predatory creature calmly surveying the prey before himself. Limbs folded neatly in front, lithe, yet not unfit figure watching with an unnerving yet alluring state of peace. Behind those eyes he could practically see his thoughts calculating each and every move.

 

Well, whenever he actually looked in those eyes.

 

Director Percival Graves was an intimidating man, and Newt was only human. A human that tended to shy away from humans on top of that. How was he supposed to sit here, case gripped tightly to his chest like a lifeline, across the desk from one of the most powerful wizards he had encountered and be expected to maintain eye contact. He had only just recently gotten used to looking at Tina’s eyes more than once during a conversation, instead of flickering his gaze to her shoulder or to read other signs of body language that he could derive and translate from animal behavior.

 

“Mr. Scamander.”

 

Newt looked up again, his eyes drifting over Director Graves’ face briefly before deciding those cheekbones were a safe enough spot to settle his gaze. Close enough to seem as if he were paying full attention. This man before him was one of authority, and he valued knowing that he held someone’s attention.

 

“Ah, Newt. Actually.”

 

“Alright. Newt.” Percival gave in as if this was not the third time during this meeting alone that he had been corrected. Mister Scamander was what everyone called Theseus. Newt preferred to be on much more casual terms with those he met. It made the possibility of running through their backyard, covered in dirt and other questionable substances, shouting mating calls after a rogue Nogtail much easier to deal with. Also, it lessened the chance of news of his exploits making their way back into departments of the Ministry that were not quite fond of him. Those chances were slim enough already given who he was speaking with.

 

“What you’re requesting is…highly questionable. You’re aware of this.” Director Graves leaned forward slightly. Newt breathed in just a little quicker than normal. It was as if every time this man moved his entire body was tensed to pounce, even when the moment was casual business in nature. This was their third private meeting since he had assisted in finding the missing Director from where Grindlewald had placed him out of the way. Even more evidence of his magical strength, to survive at the hands of that man for so long.

 

The Brit gave a slight nod, his wild hair bouncing as he did and dropping further into his eyes. A defense, a curtain to hide behind as he grappled with the strong feelings of attraction that he had not been so dutifully battling with since his brief school days.

 

“And, of course, would require Presidential approval for your…operating outside of the Magical Beasts Act in order to—”

“Yes, Director Graves, but I have reason to believe that the Nundu is in danger. She is only a kit, boarding on juvenile at best given the reports and is only just—”

“I’m sorry. The _Nundu_ is in danger?”

 

Newt was caught off guard by the sudden input into his ramble. He blinked rapidly, his eye contact landing directly onto Graves’ piercing and somewhat bewildered stare as he tried to make sense as to why this man would assume anyone _but_ the creature was at the threat of harm here.

 

“Yes. She is out of her natural environment, away from her litter and her mother. Scared, in a very loud city. Not to mention she’s been smuggled here unlawfully and in a cruel fashion. Why would she not be in danger, this entire city is against her.” Newt frowned, his mouth pulling into a tight line as he did. “The only contact she’s had with wizards and perhaps muggles had been negative—”

“Which is why the creature is a danger to the public.”

“No. Which is why they are a danger to her.”

 

The stare off that commenced would normally have Newt squirming uncomfortably in his seat. However, in this very moment, it was a battle of his passion against attraction. The younger Scamander tilted his chin a little higher and straightened his normally slouched posture. A way of asserting dominance through body language.

 

Graves leveled his chin and stared down his nose, and Newt folded immediately.

 

“Director Graves.” He said, slowly, even though his posture was now again slouched, and his eyes fell onto the obviously enchanted paperweight sitting on the desk. The thunderbird on it stretched his wings and settled back against its engraved metal perch. “She is alone and frightened. I’m only asking to retrieve her and to rehabilitate her. I’m caring for a Nundu already another one is no issue—”

 

“You’re _what_?” Percival’s voice was frighteningly calm, his eyes immediately flickering to the case, then back up to the befuddling man before him. “Caring for a Nundu. Already. You already have one. Do you know how illegal that is—”

“I have papers.”

 

“You have three papers. Each I have given you on each visit after you let slip what you have. One for the Erumpent—”

 

“Lidia.“

 

“One for the Demiguise-“

 

“Dougal.”

  
“And one for the Mooncalves.”

  
“Mavis, Martian, Melbourne—” 

“Newt, please. While I appreciate that they all have names I really do not need the entire list of thirty Mooncalves in this exact moment. Even if it is impressive that you’ve most likely come up with thirty names starting with ‘M’.”

“Thirty-three.”

 

“Ah. They’ve multiplied.”

 

“They breed quickly. Their pregnancy only lasts—”

“Newton.”

 

There was something in the Director’s tone this time that was softer. It wasn’t scolding or anything malicious, but it did do the deed of causing Newt to stop and look up at him. His gaze now settled where Percival’s tie was neatly sitting against his throat.

Graves sighed. He moved his hand from where his arms had been neatly crossed in order to pinch the bridge of his nose. Newt pulled his lower lip into his mouth, worrying the skin between his teeth firmly enough to redden them.

 

“You’re requesting to go alone, on an extremely dangerous job. You do not work for M.A.C.U.S.A, and I’m sure your track record isn’t something the Ministry is completely fond of, but that depends on how much they know.” He pressed his pointer finger and his thumb into the corner of his eyes, rubbing them before dropping his hand. “You understand where I’m coming from here. Your last trip to New York-“

“Was an anomaly and has not happened, nor will happen again.”

“You’ve only been here for a week this time and there is a Nundu on the loose somewhere in lower Manhattan.”

“Not my fault though.”

 

Newt inclined his head slightly to the right. He shifted his hold on the briefcase in his lap, lanky fingers tightening against the edge of it as if to forcefully keep it closed though there was no current need to. There was always the irritating aspect of his life where things tended to go wrong exactly when he pointed out how right they were going.

 

“Then what do you suggest I do? I can’t let you go alone, Newt. That is final. It presents more of a security risk than I am comfortable with.” Percival’s resolve was dropping. Newt could tell by the slow ease of his shoulders. A panther relaxing in the calm of a nice summer day.

 

“You could send Tina. She’ll go with me.” Newt offered as a solution. His dear friend would more than likely have multiple heart attacks over chasing down a dangerous magical creature in the city, again, but he knew she would do anything for him, just as he would for her.

“Miss Goldstien is currently occupied with another case at the moment.”

 

Well, that way around it just went soaring out the nearest window. Newt looked down at the front of the Director’s overly elegant desk, his eyes skirting over the woodcarving without really studying it. The idea clicked, and he looked up sharply.

 

“You could come with me.” The Brit said suddenly. It seemed to catch Graves off his guard, which sparked a tiny bit of pride in Newt’s chest.

 

Graves, who seemingly had not even considered that a viable option, watched Newt for a moment. It was more than likely he was trying to gauge if the man before him was bluffing.

“Go with you? To hunt a Nundu.” He confirmed, slowly.

“Hunt is a sort of aggressive term. I prefer rescue.” Newt pulled his lower lip back into his mouth, glancing up at Graves’ face just in time to see him quickly look away. “I think it’s a healthy compromise. You get to supervise me, and I get to rescue the creature.”

 

“I think you need far more than supervision at times, Mister Scamander.” Graves sighed, but he wasn’t refusing.

Newt felt the smile tug at the corner of his lips, just barely brushing his eyes with light. “It will give me the chance to show you that I mean well.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of your intentions. It’s just the matter you go about them that is nauseating.”

 

-

 

Thirty minutes later Newt found himself standing outside the Woolworth building watching New York City bustle by. Percival Graves stood at his left, the man methodically adjusting the sleeves of his coat and making sure he looked presentable. The actions seemed subconscious, judging by how the Director’s fingers moved mindlessly, or maybe that was just because Newt was watching them so intently.

 

He kept pace with Percival as he suddenly started for the apparition point and tried not to visibly panic when the man suddenly grabbed his arm and they were gone in a sudden swoop of magic. It wasn’t so much the human contact that had startled him, Newt had been getting used to his fair share of it again. After such a long time away studying creatures it helped to have friends around now that anchored him. Queenie seemed very fond of simply touching people for the sake of touching and affection.

What startled Newt in all honesty was how much he was beginning to enjoy when Graves just… _did that_.

 

It had taken until their second official meeting the Director’s office, but he began to notice subtle differences. Percival would brush against him, and at first, he thought it an accident. If he lingered around Tina’s desk too long the Director would emerge from his office and venture over, his fingertips skirting lightly between Newt’s shoulder blades underneath all the layers of fabric as he leaned over to survey what they were working on. As much as Newt would like to think it meant something, he wasn’t quite sure.

 

He was brought out of his deep thoughts about the meaning of human contact when they appeared in an alleyway and Percival merely started for the streets. It didn’t take much for Newt to keep up with him, matching his determined strides with long uncertain ones. It was revealed to be a street of townhouses, most of them looking posh and kept up with appearances. He spared a glance at the Director who was already pulling a set of muggle keys out of his waistcoat pocket.

 

“We’re stopping by your place?” The magizoologist ventured to assume, trailing behind Graves’ careful steps to the front door and hovering perhaps a little too close as he unlocked it.

 

“Yes. If I’m assisting, you then that requires…a little work outside of the office.”

“I’m sorry- you mean bending the law, don’t you?” Newt was smiling. Percival made him smile.

 

“With you there’s no bending the law, only keeping it intact or snapping it plainly in half.” The Director drawled, shedding his coat and hanging it up on the rack. After a brief moment of hesitation, Newt echoed his movements with his own blue coat. Pickett gave a squeak of protest and switched from the front lapel to Newt’s shoulder as quickly as he could.

 

Percival turned around, just in time to witness the bowtruckle shimmying its way under Newt’s shirt collar.

“You-- …. I don’t want to know. I’m out of the office and I don’t want to know.” He held up his hand in a motion that Newt could only describe as completely brushing off the situation, before waving it next and summoning a cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.

For a brief moment Newt was taken aback. It was rare to witness such casual displays of wandless magic. The younger Scamander himself was rather rubbish at it. Most of his magical concentration was highly spent on keeping the charms of the case intact. Everything else with his own abilities relied on using his wand and still muttering most words under his breath. Even still, it did help that Newt was rather okay with using his magic to aid in the care of those he loved rather than wandless fighting or anything used to complete simple tasks.

 

With Percival though, it seemed like the man had power to spare. He was practically bursting from the seams with it. It was alluring.

 

“…So, what are we doing here then?” Newt ventured, staying somewhere near the front door and rocking on his feet.

Graves spared him a glance, rolling up his sleeves in a way that Newt was trying desperately not to watch.

“I’m helping you.”

“Yes, but, the Nundu is outside somewhere. In the city.”

“I’m aware of this, Newton. Helping you, as I said, requires bending some things. So, we’re here where we can talk about them and reach the compromise of getting the job done correctly and quickly without the threat of someone barging into my office.”

 

There was a baited pause after Percival spoke, and Newt just waded in the silence.

 

“I also wanted to take you home. At some point or another.”

 

Ah.

So, there it was.

 

Newt found himself blinking quickly and slightly taken aback. He was aware of the blush rising to his cheeks. At least this meant that he had been reading the situation correctly and not all his knowledge of human contact was tainted by time spent alone. For the most part he had been able to correctly identify that someone was attracted to him, and actually someone he wanted to be.

 

“Is…that alright, Newt?” Graves was staring at him, trying to interrogate him without the actual interrogating. The Brit realized he had failed to respond.

 

“Oh! Uh, yes. Yes, quite. Yes, it is, alright. Alright that is that you wanted…to bring me home, and that I would want to come here. Wasn’t quite sure if I was reading it correct you keep coming off as cross with me more often than not and I wasn’t quite sure—”

“You’re rambling.”

“Sorry. I’ve been told I tend to do that.”

 

When Newt glanced up through his hair, and when his eyes skirted over Percival’s face before landing on his shoulder, he realized the other man was smiling.

 

“It’s alright, Newt. I just…wanted to make that clear. I don’t mean anything right this moment- the Nundu is far too important, but just for future reference.”

“I appreciate the forewarning, thank you.”

 

For the first time, Newt heard Percival Graves give a laugh. He wished he could record that sound and play it over again. While it was nothing but a short, amused huff it was a laugh all the same. Enough of one to make the corners of Newt’s mouth turn upwards and his heart lift a bit.

 

“But…after the Nundu is safe, then.” Newt clarified, with hope tinting his words. Hope, excitement, and a tinge of pure uncertainty. He had no idea what he was doing in this department, more like dealing out cards and hoping for a good hand.

 

Thankfully, this was an enchanted deck, and Newt had the advantage of only one player that seemingly put all in with nothing to lose for either side.

 

“After the creature is safe…coffee? Or tea. You prefer tea.” Percival folded his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving Newt’s that still anxiously refused to meet in the middle. Either Percival had been watching enough to notice, or it was a stereotypical guess.

 

“I prefer tea, yes.” Newt confirmed, slowly. “Or just spending time with you.”

 

“Well. Then after we accomplish this task, we’ll file away the necessary things and then come back here—”

 

A sudden roar from out on the street cut the director off, followed by a scream and the sound of metal giving way in a solid squealing crunch. The pair of them exchanged a look, and Newt held direct eye contact for the longest he had in a while. There was excitement swimming in his eyes, and it meant more than he could ever say to see the same echoed in Percival’s.

 

“Nundu?” Percival asked, plainly.

 “Nundu.” Newt turned- and bolted out the door, case in tow and Percival Graves at his heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention my twitter? @acornandroid  
> Join me in the hell that is reliving my old obsessions cause Johnlock is next


End file.
